


A Dog Too Far

by eschscholzia



Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Don't copy to another site, F/M, High School AU, Student Council, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex, thryce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eschscholzia/pseuds/eschscholzia
Summary: Arihnda Pryce is a dedicated teacher who wants her students to do well on their end-of-year tests. If that earns her an assistant principal position at her old high school, the more the better! Nobody- not the Student Council, and not the new exchange teacher Mr. Nuruodo- will derail her. (This story is on long-term hiatus, but not abandoned)





	A Dog Too Far

The cicadas whined in the trees as Arihnda pounded down the path on her lunch-hour jog. Traffic noises sounded in the distance, but at least the greenway had a screen of trees and a bit of shade in the late summer heat.  Summer break was almost over; Tuesday was the first day of school. Her colleagues were still getting their classrooms ready, while she was already done. Arihnda liked the minimalist approach to her classroom: none of the shrines to Lothal State University or Doctor Who for her. She looked at her watch— just enough time to take a quick shower in the locker room before the faculty meeting. 

Her foot slipped mid-stride; she stumbled as it slid out in front of her. Her right leg muscle screamed a searing protest. _Crink_. She hobbled a few steps more out of momentum. Arihnda turned around, scanning the ground for the offending object that tripped her. There it was, a small black dog waste bag. Someone had conveniently left it in the middle of the path. _Convenient for them, but not for her;_ she _stepped in it._ A sour smell warned her to do further damage assessment. She looked at the bottom of her comparatively new running shoes. _Double-crink. What sort of half-witted nerf-herder thought they had fulfilled their civic duty just by bagging their dog poodoo instead of carrying it to the trash bins placed strategically along the path? If they had at least let their dog poop on the side of the path it would biodegrade._ She scraped the side of her shoe against a pile of leaves.

Eventually satisfied that the worst of the mess was off the side of her shoes, she began running again. She got three steps down the greenway before pulling up. _Triple-crink. Pulled something._ She gritted her teeth and hobbled the rest of the way. Traveling at a reduced pace, she had more time to look around her. Maybe it was her annoyance making her notice things more, or maybe it was because of the heavy rains the week before, but what was going on with all the litter on the margins of the greenway? At least it would be dealt with in the spring, she thought resolutely.

Because of her slower return split, she didn’t have time for a full shower back at the locker rooms. She splashed some water on her face and hurriedly wiped strategic areas with a dampened washcloth. She smoothed her hair as she tried not to limp into the conference room. Luckily there were still seats available; half the staff were there, but not everyone yet. She took a spot close to the head of the room, but not front row— she liked to signal attentiveness, but not overt boot-licking.

The head principal quietly stepped to the podium. He rapped soundly on the wood with his knuckles. Some people around Arihnda jumped. She didn’t; she was used to his tricks of intimidation and displays of power. She knew he liked to sneak up on people unawares.

“Nice of the old Moth to show up,” a voice muttered in her ear.

“Hsst…” Arihnda jabbed her seatmate in the side with an elbow. “Watch your language, Driller. He’s got hearing for miles.”

Driller was right though, no matter how much circumspection he lacked. Compared to previous principals at Easthills High School who were nearly ubiquitous in the hallways, talking to students and staff, William Tarkin was mostly an absentee administrator. How many days of the week was he gone at district meetings? Arihnda shuddered to think of the lines outside his office on days he was in. Driller had nicknamed him Moth because he was so thin and pasty white; a hard thing to achieve in sunny southern Lothal. 

Tarkin droned on about the usual things: the new hall pass policy, the report of the latest inspections from the School District, and the results of the previous End of Grade examinations. Arihnda sighed. The school report cards and expected progress benchmarks in Civics would be hard to meet. But she would do it.

“…and with Ryder Azadi away on sabbatical, the position of Faculty Adviser to the Student Council will be filled by Arihnda Pryce.”

Arihnda jolted back to attention hearing her name. She smiled brilliantly, and waved to the gathered faculty.

“Finally, I also wanted to take the opportunity to welcome our new faculty members this year, especially Mitth’raw Nuruodo, our Fulbright exchange teacher who will be filling in for Mr. Azadi in our Art department.”

Everyone clapped as a handful of new faces stood up, waved, and then sat down. She immediately pinpointed the odd one out, who she pegged as the most likely candidate to be Mr. Nuruodo. It was the coat and tie that was the tipoff. Was it the school uniform at his home school? There was an elaborate crest on the pocket.   The poor guy was going to get eaten alive by the non-art major kids if he dressed like that.

The meeting over, everyone stood to go. Arihnda unobtrusively flexed and pointed her toes. Her muscles had tightened up a bit while she sat. Driller gathered his papers. “See you at the picnic on Saturday?”

She nodded, following the path of Principal Tarkin, hoping to bend his ear regarding the Forensics Team travel budget. Across the room, a small crowd of teachers stood around Mr. Nuruodo, introducing themselves and making chit-chat. He stood half a head taller than most; his blue-black hair stood out. He seemed very reserved. Arihnda watched his mouth move as he answered their questions, the words lost to her in the background chatter. Someone pushed past her on their way out the door, breaking her reverie. She brushed Mr. Nuruodo from her memory as she wove through the crowds to reach Tarkin. It was unlikely that she would need to interact with him much.

**Author's Note:**

> My random trope was "absurdly powerful student council." I have the outline for where the story should go, but I'm having trouble connecting the dots at the beginning without being awkward. I'm not sure how regularly I'll be able to update until I get over that first hurdle.


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